Wishing Charm
by Futago no Seishi
Summary: "Hidden under a board in her closet lays a wishing charm of eight hundred and ninety-four flowers. Most are withered and the woven loops are breaking apart, but she is so close—so close to one thousand, and then maybe, just maybe, her wish will come true." Exploring the relationship between Nel and Clair due to their separation during the course of the game. Yuri, Nel x Clair.


**Disclaimer: **I do not own _Star Ocean: Till the End of Time_ or any of the characters, and this piece of fanfiction is for the sole purpose of entertainment.

**Pairing: **Nel x Clair  
**Genre: **angst, romance  
**Rating: **PG-13  
**Words: **1758  
**Warnings: **yuri

**A/N:** Written circa 2007-2008 after I finished playing Star Ocean 3 and became utterly obsessed with both of these characters. And obviously fixated on such a minor detail to the game's story as a wishing charm made with special flowers.

* * *

**Wishing Charm**

Nel is leaving again.

It is early morning and the dull glow of pre-dawn strives to enter through their closed window. Clair watches silently as Nel rises from the bed, leaving a cold, hollow space besides her. She pretends to sleep and it must be believable because Nel pauses no more than two seconds before dressing. Even though Nel takes care to always replace the blankets, it is not enough—and the cold seeps into her body, goose pimples rising on her skin as she fights the urge to shiver. But she can't or else Nel will know she's awake, and she must guard against that outcome at all costs—because if Nel knew she was watching, she'd only leave earlier. Nel used to leave just after dawn, but when she realized Clair was conducting a silent vigil each time, she made pains to leave earlier. Clair thinks Nel does this in order to lessen her guilt, for she is fully aware of the weight of a sad gaze.

All it takes is five minutes and Nel is standing by the door, staring silently back. She wants to call out to the other woman, to beg her to stay, but they have gone through this tiresome routine all too many times. Exchanged words only harm, so Clair stares silently back through half-open lids and tries to keep her heart from breaking apart yet again as the door quietly shuts.

o o o

Clair worries a lot.

Nel always complains that she worries too much, but Clair is of the mind that she doesn't worry nearly enough. After all, Nel is out there risking her life and she is stuck here at the home base, unable to ensure her lover's safety. And Nel is gone for such long stretches of time. Clair often fears she won't ever return again—that the fleeting glimpse in the pre-dawn light is the last she'll ever see of the other woman. That she won't ever be able to hold Nel in her arms again, to inhale the scent of her hair and tell her how much she loves her.

It is the same every time. As the months stretch by, her worry is amplified tenfold for her fear is very much real. And then suddenly, one day without warning, Nel will appear again, unkempt but alive, and reprimanding her for her ceaseless anxiety.

But Nel hasn't returned yet, so all Clair can do is worry and hope that this harrowing cycle continues.

o o o

They started out as partners but, somewhere along the line, they became much, much more.

Clair isn't quite sure when this transformation took place. Perhaps it was that one time when Nel came stumbling in through the southwestern gates of Arias, bleeding profusely and on the verge of death. All Clair can remember is rushing towards her, breath caught somewhere near her sternum and thinking quite starkly: _I'm going to lose the woman I love_. It was only later after Nel was stabilized that she had the time to ponder her own thoughts that, upon reflection, seemed only natural. She loved Nel and that was that.

For a long time, she mentioned nothing. She kept her emotions carefully wrapped inside herself, content to live with her one-sided adoration. And it would have continued in such a vein had Nel not touched her shoulder that late autumn evening, just hours before they were to set out on their latest mission. From that single fleeting touch, she knew: _Nel loves me, too_.

o o o

The first time they sleep together, Clair is terrified. Not of Nel nor of the strange, titillating new experience that awaits them, but of being discovered—for her father is staying at headquarters, just two rooms down from theirs. And he doesn't know of their relationship, nor would he approve, and Clair is irrationally terrified that he will somehow separate them.

Nel chuckles at Clair's fears and kisses her cheek. Then she slides downward and does something with her mouth that makes Clair's toes curl and the fine hairs on her body stand erect, and Clair has to clasp both hands over her mouth to restrain the embarrassing sounds that threaten to escape. And perhaps Nel is a sadist because the other woman only works harder to lure those breathless cries from out of her throat and Clair can barely handle it. So all she can do is hold her mouth and hope that her father is sleeping soundly because she's sure her cries will wake the entire household.

By dawn Nel is gone, but she's glowing at breakfast and the other runologists smile knowingly amongst themselves. Her father asks whether she's elated about the recent skirmish win and she hums noncommittally into her tea.

o o o

Nel used to send Clair letters, but when doing so risked disclosing her affiliation with Aquios, they agreed to stop. This is partially why Clair worries as much as she does. Before, even though she could never reply and the letters came few and far between, at least they came—and Clair knew, knew for a wonderful second that Nel was still alive somewhere out there, alive and loving her and maybe, maybe ready to come home. But now there is no news, no scrawled signatures, no promises of a coming return.

Clair still keeps every letter, though; keeps them in a gilded box on her bed stand. Every night before she goes to sleep, she caresses their worn edges. With her eyes closed, she can almost smell Nel in them: smell her earthiness, her exhaustion as she forfeits yet more sleep in order to pen these wonderful words. Even though they are old, Clair reads them constantly, trying to hear Nel's voice with each word. She pretends they are recent, that this is really what is happening with her lover, but she has read them all so often now that she can recite whole passages—and it's just not the same.

But it's all that she has, so she continues reading.

o o o

Clair is a homely spirit. She would be content to stay at home, to settle, and Nel has always joked that she would make an excellent housewife for the man of her father's choice. But Clair doesn't want to be a housewife—not for anyone. Not even for Nel, and maybe that's for the better. Because Nel is a free spirit: she is ruled by wild curiosity and an insatiable need for movement, for change, and she would never settle down—not for anyone. Clair would travel to the ends of the world and back thrice for her. But it would be alright, because she would be with Nel and nothing else would matter.

o o o

When Nel kisses her, it's as if the world stops.

For the infinitesimal moment when their lips interlock, Elicoor II's orbit comes to a grinding halt. In that timeless, flow-less space, only they exist. It is nothing but Nel's hair brushing against her cheeks, Nel's hand pressed firmly against the small of her back, Nel's scent enveloping her—nothing but Nel in this suspended moment of time. Clair drowns in the other woman and she's sure she would fall through space were it not for Nel holding her up.

And then it is over as soon as it begins, and it is Nel smiling softly at her as she whispers, "I'm home."

o o o

Nothing can compare to that first night when Nel returns. Even if it is but for a night, those few precious hours in the cover of darkness are the most memorable. Even if they do naught but hold each other tightly, it is enough—because Clair can finally sleep an entire night through, soothed by the knowledge that Nel is safe and sound next to her. For that first night, she can forget everything; forget that she is a commander on the battlefront and that outside the war rages on, claiming countless innocent lives. For a scant few hours, she can forget everything and simply exist—because Nel is home again and Nel is her world.

o o o

Just like everyone else, Clair wants the war to end. But she feels like a fraud, a shameful creature, for her primary reason is selfish and uncompassionate to the pain and loss of others. The main reason she wants the war to end is so that Nel will come home—will stay home. And if Nel's free spirit can't be contained within the small confines of Arias, then she could at least resign from her position. Then they could go back to the way it was before: traveling together, facing missions side by side, the Crimson Blade. They have always been a unit and it kills Clair slowly every day that they are apart—and they have been apart so often for so long that she fears there may not be any of her left to lose.

Hidden under a board in her closet lays a wishing charm of eight hundred and ninety-four flowers. Most are withered and the woven loops are breaking apart, but she is so close—so close to one thousand, and then maybe, just maybe, her wish will come true.

o o o

Nel runs her fingers slowly through her hair, breath soft against her neck and body warm, solid, _present_ at her side. It's early but not yet morning, and Nel is unable to sleep because Clair is crying. But Clair can't help it; can no longer contain herself. She's reached one thousand with her wishing charm, but the war is still going—Nel is still going, and she feels so stupid for even wanting to believe such superstitions, but it's all that she can do.

It's the dead of winter even in Aquios, so she can only imagine the frosted-over hell that is Ariglyph. She clings to Nel's lithe body, foolishly hoping she can impart some warmth to the other woman—but she is cold, so cold. And even if she had any warmth to give, it would never be enough—would never protect Nel, would never ensure her safe return. She feels so helpless and lost, and now she has run out of options. But the world won't wait for her and neither will Nel.

So she clings. Clings to her as if she is the only thing keeping her alive—and maybe she is. But Nel just strokes her hair and holds her, holds her in the gentlest way and Clair is sure she will die soon from this never-ending heartache.

It is early morning and Nel is leaving again.


End file.
